


Evil in Congress

by Red_Seraphim



Category: Deadlands (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-09-04
Packaged: 2018-02-15 10:50:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2226303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red_Seraphim/pseuds/Red_Seraphim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Wild West is weird, and likely will never be the same again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: A Meeting of Two

Nim walked into the saloon, and instantly saw the man with whom he intended to speak. There was nothing remarkable about him - his face was plain, if a little dirty, his eyes were brown, and he wore typical clothes. What pointed him out to Nim was that his posture seemed regal, and he was looking directly at Nim as he walked in. He smiled.

"Please, have a seat. Need a drink?" he asked Nim.

Nim pulled out the chair opposite the man and sat himself down. "I'm fine, thanks." He looked at the glass of brandy sitting in front of the man.

"That's fine. Alright, so what's going on with your agency, good king?"

Nim winced. He had never told the man he used to be a king, but he had known anyway. But when the man asked a question, Nim would answer. "They've disappeared. None of our resources that we had keeping tabs on them know what has happened. They just vanished."

The smile on the man played itself into a grin that reached his eyes. "As expected."

Nim sat for a moment, finally daring to look the man in the eye. "You expected it?"

The man sipped his brandy. "Well, not today, but rather soon, yes. It'd be worrying if it hadn't. Have you been assigned to look for any of them?"

"Yes, I have. I'm to look in Kentucky."

"Go to Salt Lake City."

Nim looked at the man. "How are they there? No train could have gotten them there by now. Not even an ornithopter could have. Not all of them."

"I never said that they came by anything. You must go there."

Nim bit his lip. "I'll need to convince them to transfer me with someone. Maybe Richard."

"That would be good. He's from Kentucky. Honestly it makes more sense for him to be there. Who'll be accompanying you?"

"A child. Plays with cards, if you understand."

The man laughed aloud. "I know him. Well then, I certainly don't need to be worried about him."

Nim wondered again how the man could know so much, but he brushed the question aside. The man always knew.

The man downed his brandy, and then stood casually from his seat. Nim quickly stood as well.

"Well, I have a train to catch. Remember, no overestimating. I know your pride, and I don't want it interfering with this," the man said, a hint of menace in his voice. Nim felt his skin crawl - he had nearly forgotten the feeling until he had met the man.

The man walked out of the saloon, and Nim went to the counter. "I need a bottle of whiskey."

The bartender looked at him curiously. "It's five dollars. You talking to your boss there or something?"

Nim slapped a five-dollar note on the counter and took the bottle. "I wasn't talking to anyone."

The bartender raised an eyebrow. Nim pulled out his six-shooter.

"I never spoke to anyone. Put your damn hands down."

The bartender's hands had begun to go until Nim's command. He slowly lowered them. Nim checked the saloon out of the corner of his eye. No one seemed to have noticed.

The bartender began to sputter. "Alright, alright, I won't say a thing, I swear, I swear on me - my mother's grave, please don't shoot!"

That got the saloon's attention. Nim sighed, and pulled the trigger, before pulling out his other gun and turning to face the crowd. He could see the panic starting to dawn on their faces.

He grinned. It was addicting, this business.


	2. Out of Everywhere and Into Nowhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unlikely band of misfits finds themselves lying in the desert.

Broderick's eyes slowly opened. Up above was a clear blue sky with nary a cloud in sight. And it was hot. Very hot. She knew this because as she pushed herself up out of the sand she was lying in, it felt as if she were putting her hand into a grainy fire. But she stood, and looked around.

Huh. The gang wasn’t anywhere. This wasn’t Canada. She noticed, however, that there were other figures getting up around her. A young black child about ten years old - well, at least in his body. His face was older. Beside him lay a large rifle, almost longer than he was tall. A man with a beard and a large hammer lay near another figure, a woman with sun tanned skin and hair as dark as the crows that would hang around Broderick’s house. And then a man who looked the most out of place of the entire crowd - he was wearing a suit, and a valise sat in the sand near him.

The valise reminded Broderick of her pack. Did she still have it with her? Or was it back where she last remembered being - probably several hundred miles away? God she hoped not. She started to look around for it, when she suddenly felt her foot knock against something. When she looked down, she saw it was her pack, sitting plainly at her feet. Most of the rest of the figures around Broderick were standing as she slung the strap of her pack across her back.

As it jostled against Broderick’s back, however, the woman with the dark hair suddenly jumped up, expertly notching an arrow in her bow and drawing it back in a flash.

“Whoa, calm down miss!” said a voice from behind Broderick. She turned and saw it was a man in a white lab coat, with thin, slim glasses on his face. His hair was slightly grey, and he looked about fifty to Broderick. His face looked like he had had a few too many cuts and what looked like chemical burns in his time.

The dark-haired woman muttered something in a language that Broderick didn’t understand ( _So. Not English or French_ , she thought), but the expression on the woman’s face told her it was some sort of swear or curse. She raised her hands in the way she had seen her father settle brawls between drunks in the street. “Now, now, let’s not go ripping through anyone’s guts with an arrow. Introductions first. My name’s…” she trailed off for a split second. What if they knew about the town? No, unlikely, she reasoned; if this wasn’t Canada, then what were the chances of any of them knowing? “...Broderick,” she finished.

There was a short silence. The woman with the bow kept the arrow trained on the nearest target, the man with the hammer.

Then, the man in the suit shook the sand from his clothes and said, “Phil Buster, it’s a pleasure.”

Then the introductions started coming in more quickly. “Hi! My name’s Devon,” the young black child said, his face and voice suddenly a lot more childish - it was like he was an entirely different kind of kid than when she had first looked at him, Broderick thought.

“I’m Chuck Tesla. I’m a practitioner of New Science,” the man behind Broderick added to the list.

“My name is Ulfric - Ulfric Shroomtook,” the man with the hammer said with a grin. He turned towards the dark haired native. She slowly lowered her bow to the ground, and answered, in a slightly halting, deliberate English, “Elle S. Dee.”

Broderick smiled. “Nice to meet you all. Now,” she said, bringing her hands down and looking around at them all, “does anyone know how we got here?” They all glanced at one another. They all seemed simply confused. No clues there. “What were you all doing before you got here?” she asked instead.

“I went to bed, after I had written up a new design for…” Chuck trailed off, and then began to scrounge in a heavy bag until a look of relief grew on his face as his hand drew forth some rolled paper. “I was working on this,” he said, unfurling it for them all. Broderick glanced at it - it looked like an incomprehensible numbers and sketches to her.

“I was asleep on a train, headed East,” Phil said. “God knows how I got here. I should be in Michigan by now.”

“We were headed-” “-don’t tell them, you idiot! We can’t-” “-it’s better to appear helpful than risk irritating them and not get any help at all,” the young black kid’s voice fluctuated as smoothly as an argument; first, the soft, high voice of a child, and then a deep, angry voice, and then some between - he sounded bored, or sorrowful. ‘We were headed’ - who was he traveling with? Broderick tilted her head.

“Are you...uh, okay?” she asked. “Were you separated from some people?”

“We’re never separated, you stupid-”

“Hey, that’s not very nice, Burns! She-”

“Both of you, stop talking!” the boy who had called himself Devon answered her, his voice rolling with a tumult of annoyances. Everyone around him slowly moved away, as if he was some sort of collection of dynamite.

Broderick knelt to be eye-level with the boy. “Uh...can you use, um, the third one? The voice who just finished saying something,” she asked.

The boy’s face flashed a slew of emotions – a childish smile, then at the tilt of his head, incredible anger towards her. But after a moment, his face looked utterly relaxed; his eyelids dropped a little, and he had a languid expression. “Yes, how can I help you, miss?” asked the mellow voice.

“Uh. What’s um, what’s your name?” she asked. Broderick had a hunch. And if it was right, this kid was a hell of a lot more than he seemed.

“Alexander. I’m very sorry that I wasn’t present a moment ago – Devon’s a good kid, but he lacks manners, and Burns, well,” he said, rolling his eyes up, his lip curling in the slightest indication of dissatisfaction, “is just a rude hooligan.”

“There are three of you,” Broderick said with a smile.

The boy nodded. “Yes, we’re all here. We’re always together. I try my best to look after them -” he said, and then suddenly his voice was light and chipper again, “we all look out for each other!”

Broderick stood and said, “So, you’re Devon, I think. The other one’s Alexander, and then the last one’s name is-”

“Burns, you dumb bitch!” the boy suddenly exploded with rage, throwing his arms up in exasperation. Derry lowered her face and eyes to deliver a glower to the young child.

“I don’t like your tone,” she said, quietly.

The boy’s face shifted again, the anger evaporating and the innocence flooding back as he turned away, his voice changing to Devon as he replied, “I’m sorry, he didn’t mean anything by it -”

And then there was a thunk of someone being struck, hard, and a deep groan. Broderick looked up and saw Ulfric bending over, clutching his stomach, and Elle S. Dee looking furious. “I was just trying to cop a feel!” Ulfric moaned. Broderick cooly looked down as she drew a knife from her pocket and began to walk towards Ulfric. It had been awhile since she had cut somebody.


	3. Foreigners in Mormandy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A city is reached, questions are asked. Eyes watch.

After the big man was bandaged up and the man in the coat had collected some of his blood in a vial, the friendly lady said that they should all head to the city in the distance. Nobody seemed to argue against her, so they all began trudging through the sand towards the city.

"God, why the hell are we listening to this woman?" Burns spoke to the house. Devon frowned.

"She's nice, and she makes sense when she talks," Devon said, feeling a bit defensive about the new-found companion.

"She's also not a combative nitwit like you," Alexander rebuffed, his voice the familiar, smooth and modulated as it had been the first time Devon had listened to him. "She kept the damage she caused to that man reasonable. That, and she's actually capable of convincing others that what she says is right."

"Fuck you, Alex."

"See? You just prove my point every time you open your mouth, Burns."

"Eat a fucking ass."

Devon rolled his eyes a little and turned his attention back outward, away from the two others that lived in the body with him. He was interested in the new people, and wanted to get to know them better.

The man in the white coat was inspecting the vial of blood that he had collected after the friendly lady had cut the Viking man. He held the vial close to his face, almost in his eyes, and he tilted his head back and forth as he inspected it. The shaman merely walked forward, slightly away from the group. The man in the suit looked glum and was closest to the nice lady. Apparently he just felt uncomfortable with most others. Devon decided to go to the white coat.

"What are you doing there, mister?" He asked the man.

The man was startled at the sudden question, almost dropping the vial he was holding and looked at Devon. "You're...Devon right? I think that's what you said your name was."  
"Yes sir, I'm Devon. Why did you put that man's blood in that bottle there?"

"I've been having some theories about the composition of blood and its applications to mechanical apparatuses."

Devon stared at the man.

"It's a radical theory, I know, since blood is completely organic, but I think it could have many uses-"

"Mister I don't know what you're talking about. You want to use it for something?" Burns suddenly was speaking out of the mouth.

"Uh, yes, I'm thinking of using it for a number of things."

"Right. Got it. Maybe you could just fucking say it like that next time," Burns said, breaking away from the man's space as they all arrived at the borders of the city. It was marked only by a large sign. Burns didn't know what it said. Not even Alexander did. None of them read.

Alexander spoke to Burns in the house. "Let me take a reins for a bit, Burns."

"Why the hell should I do that?"

"Because you aren't likely to like anything we're going to be doing. That man is in a suit. He's some greenhorn from back East," Alex began, and the eyes looked at the man who said his name was Buster. "He's certainly not going to be on your 'okay' list. He's what people call a proper man. A proper man we are not."

Burns sighed and let go of the body and felt Alexander fill the area of control. The study was always where they could control the body.

Alexander walked over to the lady who had stabbed the Viking man. "Where are we, miss Broderick?"

"Well, uh," Broderick started, as Alexander noticed how she was studying his face and his body, "Alex, we're in a place called Desert, I'm pretty sure."

"Desert?"

"Yeah. It was sort of spelled weird," she answered, and then her attention was diverted to a nearby stranger.

"Excuse me, can you please tell me where I am?" she asked the new man, who was wearing a fine suit and had a chest-length beard, and a dark, round hat. He stopped and looked at Broderick with a surprised look in his eye and his eyebrow raised.

"You are in Salt Lake City, miss, in the state of Deseret."

"Desser-ey?"

The man nodded slowly, and leaned a bit, like he was some sort of school teacher trying to teach her how to write. "Yes, miss, that's right. De-ser-ey. You should stop by Sheriff Waters office. He'll help get you oriented in town. I don't know how you can find your way here without knowing where you're going, but I hope he will be able to help you. Good day," he said, tipping his hat to her. He began to walk away, but Alexander noticed the man's glance over his shoulder, and the subtle run of his hands over his pockets.

"Stupid fuck," Burns muttered quietly out of the mouth.

"Precisely why I said you should give me the reins," Alex said calmly without missing a beat. "He gets out of our hair faster if he doesn't hear comments like that." He glanced over to Broderick. He saw her eyes watching the man as he walked away as well. She smiled.

"Well, time to get ourselves to the sheriff's office then," she declared to the rest of the group, turning on her heel.

Alexander gripped his rifle. "Miss, will we have to turn over our guns?"

Broderick looked him in the eyes and smiled. "Well, we'll see. Hopefully not. That man was carrying a derringer and seemed like an upstanding dude, so I'm going with that they're allowed."

Alex's eyes widened. "He was carrying a gun?"

"Yeah, in his breast pocket. Not too concealed, but enough that you'd have to be looking. Guess to protect himself from little dangers," Broderick answered, smiling and patting Alexander on his back. "We'll be alright. Whatever the sheriff says."


	4. Taking Stock and the Junkyard

The door to the sheriff's office swung open. Chuck saw the sheriff, busily scribbling away on papers set before him on his desk. He looked up at the ragtag assembly now standing in his office.

“Morning. How can I help you folks?”

The man calling himself Phil stepped forward. “Morning sir. Myself and my companions are new to this fair city of Salt Lake, and we were wondering if you could tell us more about the city.”

The sheriff (had the man earlier called him Waters?) stood and extended his hand in greeting. “Good morning. What would you like to know?”

“Well, we were wondering about any important places you can think of around this fair city?” Phil asked.

The Sheriff shrugged. “Well, there's the Temple, but many of you don't look like converts, so I'm assuming that you'd mostly be interested in, uh, the eastern part of the city.”

Chuck looked out the window of the sheriff's office. He could see, far in the distance, buildings that suddenly sprung several stories higher than the ones they had seen. Chuck turned and asked, “Those buildings there?”

The sheriff glanced out the window and nodded. “Yes. It's just a few streets down and then you can take a right at 6th.”

Broderick smiled and said, “Thank you very much. We'll get out of your hair.” She turned quickly, and ushered the small child outside, making sure he was blocked by her and the Native shaman. His brow raised for a moment, but then he looked at the boy's rifle over his shoulder.

“Let's get a move on,” Broderick said cheerfully, and started down the street. They walked down the street, and several other pedestrians seemed to look at them, and herded children away and made sure to walk on the opposite side of the street. Phil tried to walk some distance away from the group. Chuck walked beside Broderick. “I believe that people are afraid of us.”

Broderick looked at him and asked, “Why?”

“Probably because of our evident weaponry.”

Broderick glanced at the rifle slung on the young boy's shoulder. “Well, yeah, I guess that would be a bit worrisome.”

“We should probably try to conceal it. Or find some place to store it.”

The boy turned and glared at Chuck. “You're not taking our gun away from us, you fuck.”

Broderick knelt and said, “Hey now, we don't want to take it off you guys. But we also don't really want any trouble from those other guys with guns, you see?”

Chuck looked contemplative. “I could disassemble it.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” the boy asked in his angry voice.

“It means he wants to take it apart,” he answered himself calmly.

Then his gaze turned again to Chuck. “You want to break the gun?”

“Not precisely. We can't put it away in your pack, but I can give it a hinge so it can be folded.”

The boy looked at him blankly.

“I'm going to make it so you can put it in your damn bag, kid,” Chuck sighed, rubbing his brow in exasperation.

The boy looked at him straight in his eyes. “How long would it take to put it back the way it was after you mess with it?”

“About three seconds.”

And suddenly the rifle was in his hands.

They continued walking, turned right at 6th Street, all of their eyes on the great, looming mass of brick and steel they slowly approached, and which seemed to grow taller the closer they got to it.

The crowds of people on the street began to change too. The sky seemed to get a bit darker, and when they were walking among the buildings, Chuck couldn't see the sun anymore. It was blocked out by innumerable steel pipes and wires that stretched like a cave ceiling, connecting nearly every building together in some way. Chuck was so mesmerized by the intricacies of the pipes that he nearly missed the fact that everyone that the group passed in the streets was wearing some type of cloth mask over their mouths. The group was also getting some odd looks from passersby, even though Chuck wasn't now sure if they were fearful or opportunistic.

“What's everyone wearing masks for?” the young child asked. A moment later he had his answer. He coughed, and then coughed again, and it took him a few seconds to stop. Broderick put a hand on his back reassuringly.

“It's the air,” Phil answered, pulling out a handkerchief and covering his face.

Chuck continued looking at passersby, and then looked back at the group. "It's likely the smoke stacks."

Some of them continued to look confused.

"The factories in this part of town," he continued, pointing at the buildings nearby that stretched for the length of several buildings they had passed, "probably run on ghost rock. It releases a lot of power when it's burned, but you don't want to be breathing what's left all day."

 The Viking spoke. "I suppose that's why everyone wandering about around here's wearing their dinky little masks and whatnot."

Chuck looked and thought for a moment. "Right," he said, slightly unsure. He hadn't paid much attention to the people walking around them.

Broderick looked about for a few seconds, and then walked over to a bulky man that was smeared practically head to toe in grease, carrying a wrench.

"Hey, I got to ask you a question-" Broderick began.

"Bug off, kid, I don't have any time to listen to your Mormon runoff. I get enough of it at work," the man answered her, batting her lightly with the wrench before continuing on his way.

Broderick rubbed the part of her arm when she had been tapped. "Well, that wasn't helpful at all, but we should probably get to finding masks for ourselves."

Chuck nodded in agreement. "Yes. It's possible they're sold at some store around here," he said, scanning the street around them. There were few signs, and most didn't make much sense to him - Gonzalez's House, Salt Lake City Grand.

"Looks like we're going to have to do a bit of walking to find anything like that," Phil said, starting to walk. "It looks like this is something more of a residential place."

The young boy looked around at the buildings, his mouth open. "People live in these? They're really huge!"

"Most of those big factories we saw walking here need people to work in them," Chuck said. "They probably would have filled most of the desert out there if they had to build individual houses."

Phil coughed. "Yes, yes, we can explain everything to the tyke after we get some damn masks. The last thing I need is to get sick in this city which I have only been in for a few damn hours."

At the man's insistence, the group continued onward. They wandered through the streets, avoiding the alleys and the eyes that peered at them from them. Eventually they saw a shop with a sign declaring it 'Cat's Used Goods'.

They entered.


	5. The Honorable Cat and Salt Lake's Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A kind shop keeper is met, and curiosity takes its hold. A plan is formed.

A small bell rang as they all entered. Devon couldn't see around the adults at first, and so he needed to squirm his way around them to actually see around the shop. In his maneuvering, he accidentally bumped into the long, dark-haired woman. He thought she had said her name was...L? He glanced up to apologize, but was met only with an unreadable stare.

Who does this bow bitch think she's looking at? Burns said, and put a force through the House to move the body.

But Alexander was quicker, and Devon felt the swift, yet steadying element of Alexander's person keep Burns from entering. Burns, stay out. We don't need you causing another scene.

Get the fuck out of my way, Alex! Devon heard Burns yell. He sighed, and shrugged to himself before turning his attention back to outside the House.

Once he had gotten himself around the adults, he saw that the store was filled with a wild array of junk. Clothes, papers, odd gizmos none of them could identify, even a few normal guns. And then Devon's eyes lit up as he saw the proprietor. She was of middling height, Alexander noted, but still a good few heads taller than the body they shared. She had slightly darker skin than he did, and when she looked up from some papers she gave everyone a big smile. Devon liked her.

"Hi folks, what can I do for you today?"

Broderick stepped forward and greeted the woman's smile with her own. "Hi there. My name is Broderick, and these are my, uh," she said, glancing at the assemblage behind her, "my friends."

Devon's eyes watched the faces of everyone looking at each other and at him.

Devon smiled. Burns was disgusted. Alexander watched.

The woman smiled too. "Well, it's nice to meet you, and your friends, Broderick. My name is Katherine, but most everyone calls me Cat. I take it you all are from out of town?" The woman sympathetically made a gesture with her hand in front of her mouth.

Broderick nodded. "Pretty far out, yeah. We all came here a little...confused. To be honest with you, we weren't even sure how we got here at all."

Cat's eyes widened. "Honey, how could you have gotten here at all without you knowing how it happened?"

Broderick shrugged. "It's something we'd like to figure out ourselves. Do you know anyone around here who can help us figure out how we, uh, you know. Ended up here." Broderick spread her hands outward from her sides, indicating everything around them.

Cat looked at each of them, her smile slowly fading away into a worrying, wrinkled look. "Well, let me get the whole picture before I go off trying to advise you what to do. Is it possible you and your friends were brought in on a train?"

Broderick turned and faced everyone. "From what we've gathered from a little talking, it seems like we all woke up together about a mile outside the city, in the desert. No train tracks around."

The man in the suit took a step forward to join in. "We weren't anywhere near each other to begin with either. I was on my way to Michigan," he said.

"I was in my lab in Wisconsin, doing my work," the man in the lab coat added. Alexander reminded Devon his name was Tesla.

The shop woman looked down at Devon from behind the counter. "And where did you come from, kid?"

Devon looked back. That was something he wasn't sure about. Alexander was the one who kept track of the details of stuff. Devon just talked, he wasn't good at knowing places. He wasn't even sure if Alexander wanted him to answer that question. He felt all the eyes on him. He felt his grip on the body slipping.

Whoa there, Dev, just give it to me. I'll handle this. Alexander gently took Devon out of the room, sending him a gentle reassurance as Devon went back to his own room, leaving Alexander in control of the body. Burns was waiting for him at the stairs.

Alexander coolily looked at Cat and replied, "I...I was in Alabama when I got transported here." He calmly dropped the smile that Devon had been holding. The boy had enthusiasm, but damn did it make the cheeks sore.

Cat's eyebrows raised a bit, but her gaze shifted to another in the group and they continued to give where they had been. Good, Alex thought, the less attention, the better.

And then he felt that a pair of eyes were still looking down at him. He looked, and met Broderick's gaze head on. He studied her face, her eyes. Why would she choose to keep looking at the body right now?

She grinned, and her eyes went back to the discussion. Evidently the rest of the group had been questioned.

"Well, y'all certainly do seem to have come from all over," Cat said with a sigh. "Practically every one of you in a different territory, and only yesterday. Something's definitely...well..." Cat teetered off, rubbing her brow.

"That sounds like you have some idea," Ulfric said.

Cat looked at the eyes upon her. Alex could see her reluctance as she began.

"Okay...I honestly think you shouldn't, but what you've all got sounds like a Hellstromme problem to me."

Chuck's eyes widened. Phil's brow furrowed. "You mean Dr. Hellstromme, the inventor?"

Cat nodded. "Yeah. If anything weird is going on in the State of Deseret, he's likely to have his hand in it as anyone else of significance. Can't really understand why the Church welcomed him into the fold when there are countless others trying their hardest, but," she answered, shrugging.

Alex looked. "Is he also the man who owns all the factories around here?"

Chuck answered first. "He most certainly is. Hellstromme Industries is one of the most fucking famous companies of New Science the world over!" The scientist's voice was a bit higher, elated, excited. His eyes were lit up like he was a Christmas tree.

"That may be true, but you definitely aren't going to have any sort of opportunity to try and get an explanation out of him," Cat said, leaning one arm on the counter.

The woman with the bow spoke up. "Why not?"

Alex was surprised. He really hadn't been sure she really spoke any English at all.

"Hellstromme is a very...private man, I guess you'd say. He doesn't meet withe anyone except other inventors willing to sell their designs and Brigham Young, the head of the Church of Latter-Day Saints. And honestly, most everyone knows that he only meets with him because he'd probably get his keister kicked out of he didn't. he spends all day in his office at the main factory when he's even there, and the only way to even get into a factory is to be hired as a worker. Even then, no worker in there gets a meeting with Hellstromme - the most they get is a lost finger, and that's on a good day," Cat sighed.

Chuck smiled broadly. "Well, as luck would have it, I myself am an inventor."

Cat laughed without smiling first. "Fantastic. Hope you're ready for a three month application process, and even after that, there'll be no _guarantee_ that you'll have an interview with him. Probably just some lawyer."

Chuck's smile faded.

And then Alex noticed a grin spreading on Broderick's face.

"What's security like at the factory?"

Cat looked at her. "A guard on duty at all hours, and an electrically locked gate. Don't tell me you're actually thinking of breaking in there?"

Broderick continued to grin. "Oh, wouldn't dream of it. It's down there and to the right, ey?"

Cat looked up at the ceiling and sighed. "Yes, that way. I'm guessing I won't be able to dissuade you?"

"You'd be right."

"Well, I'll say a prayer for you all."

Broderick took the older woman's hand in her own and looked her in the eye. "That's mighty kind of you. I'm sure some of us will be returning the favor."

Cat seemed surprised by the sudden gesture, but she smiled warmly.

Broderick smiled and let go of Cat's hand to wave and say goodbye, and then walked out of the shop. Alex quickly followed. He grabbed Broderick's hand as she door closed behind him.

"Hey little buddy, I don't-"

"What are you playing at?" Alex asked her.

Broderick gave him a look and was silent for a moment. "What are you talking about, uh, Alex?"

"You dodged being questioned about where you're from. Cat doesn't seem like a lady who misses stuff, but you just made it seem like you were the one helping ask. So, as far as any of us know, you're not from anywhere. And how do you know you're talking to me? No one ever knows who's talking."

He starred into Broderick's face, watching. He knew she was dangerous, but he wasn't prepared to deal with someone smart who lied.

Broderick head sloped forward and she looked at him from the top of her eyes. "Your voice is different. And isn't this the pot calling the kettle black?"

Alex kept starring at Broderick. What was she talking about?

"Listen, Alex, you don't always share everything with anyone you meet, particularly not when placed in our situation. Personally, I'm wanted where I'm from, and regardless of how south I get, I don't just throw around where I'm from in case it gets to the wrong ears, alright? I figured you'd understand that best out of any of them," she said, indicating the shop with a lift of her chin. "You tried to lie your way out of telling me and the others about...well, all of you. We're both playing our hands close to our chests, so don't ask to peek at mine if I'm not trying to peek at yours, okay?"

Alex looked at Broderick. Her eyes looked back at him, confident, solid. She was reading him as much as he was her.

"I'm not one for card analogies, but yes, I understand," he finally responded.

Broderick nodded and patted Alexander's shoulder. Alex heard the shop door open again behind him. Broderick grinned.

"Good, good. Let's head to the factory, guys," she waved her hand, beckoning to the rest of them.

"Why go there?" Elle asked.

Broderick did not answer. She simply strode off, like a man headed to a good time at the bar. The group looked at each other, and then followed.

Where else could they go?

The street eventually opened up - or more accurately, all of the pipes seemed to cease their connections to the nearby buildings. The real sky was still hardly visible to Alex. The factory that had come into view was several stories tall, with enormous, black smog billowing out of tall, thin stacks, obscuring the sky.

Alexander looked closely at the gate that had come into view. It was about as high as the wall surrounding the factory itself. A guard was visible, and gun at his side.

Alex turned to Broderick. She was looking at the guard.

"So what's the plan?" He asked.

Broderick knelt, smiled at him, and began to tell him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello to the few who decided to read this one. Since it's been freaking forever since I updated, I'm actually ending this chapter a bit shorter than I had planned. Thus the creative process, I guess. Also gives you a bit of a cliffhanger, although there are definitely readers who know this already. Anyways, I will try to have the next chapter up by next week, except I was telling myself that for a month, so don't hold me to it. Thanks for reading and I hope that you enjoy it and don't mind the wait.


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